


Sorry, Right Number

by orphan_account



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Drunk Texting, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Timmy's 99...no, a hundred percent sure he's not supposed to see this text.He reads it over again three times.





	Sorry, Right Number

**Author's Note:**

> For the fluffy porn posse. xoxo.

Timmy's 99...no,  _ a hundred  _ percent sure he's not supposed to see this text. 

 

He reads it over again three times.

 

_ Fuck, I just can't stop thinking about him. He looked so goddamn good with that basketball and those fucking curls. I wanna touch 'em. Well, more than usual y'know _

 

It's from Armie. At an hour which would be very late in New York, where Armie is, and even later in Budapest, where Armie thinks Timmy is. 

 

Sure enough, another text comes through an hour later. 

 

_ God, Tim. I don't even know what to say, clearly that text wasn't meant for you. I really, really hope it doesn't make things awkward between us but if it does I understand. Sorry again. _

 

By the time that text comes through, Timmy is already in front of Armie's usual suite at the Bowery Hotel. Armie had mentioned being in New York for talks about another play, and Timmy had taken it as a happy coincidence when his Dune filming break left him time to go back to New York also and see family. 

 

He'd figured he and Armie could meet up for a drink at Soho House, maybe sneak into a movie. This text opened up…other possibilities. 

 

Timmy waits a full ten seconds after the second text arrives before knocking on Armie's door. 

 

"Tim?" Armie's voice is warm and confused when he opens the door. His hair is sticking up on one side; past him in the suite are a half-eaten room service tray, a TV blaring a muted classic film. All the evidence of one of Armie's trademark "sleep off the hangover" naps. 

 

"It's three in the morning. I mean…I'm glad to see you but…is everything OK? Are you even supposed to be in New York?" Armie rubs his eyes, sways on his feet a little. "Wait, is this even…am I dreaming?" 

 

Timmy stifles a smile. There will be plenty of time for that later. "I was gonna tell you I flew in. Got a few days off from Dune and I wanted to see home, you know?" Timmy shifts from one foot to the other. "Can I, um…come in?" 

 

"Oh, oh yeah sure!" Armie blushes a little, feels for his phone in his pocket. He starts to check it, trying and failing to hide the gesture. 

 

"That's actually what I'm here about," Timmy murmurs as he steps into the suite and kicks off his Converse by the door. "That text."

 

"Fuuuuck." Armie mutters under his breath. Timmy sees him fight off the urge to talk about this some other time. The fact that Armie will force himself to do this, to talk about this utterly embarrassing thing while still half-drunk just because Timmy matters  _ that much _ ? It's fucking adorable. 

 

"So I know I wasn't supposed to see that." 

 

"Yeah, God, I actually…I meant to send it to Nick, of all people, and I was drunk, and I forgot you were the last person I'd texted and then," Armie shrugs, crosses to the mini fridge and grabs a giant bottle of water. He drains it in a single swift swallow. Timmy can't stop staring at his throat as it happens, and for once he doesn't try to hide it. He's got a feeling there's going to be a lot less to hide from now on. 

 

"But you see. I did see it." Timmy settles on the couch, back against one arm, taps his foot on the sofa beside him to indicate where Armie should sit. Armie turns off the TV, settles a few inches away from Timmy's socked feet. "And now I can't  _ unsee _ it. Now I know you talked to Nick that way about me. And from the sound of it, you do it all the time, or at least often enough that he wasn't gonna be surprised by it." 

 

"Tim, I'm just." Armie shakes his head, rubs his temples. "I'm so sorry. I know we joked about having feelings right when we finished filming, I know you love to send me those clips of us in Rome when I was so jet lagged and out of it that I was ready to kiss you with happiness just for being a familiar face. But…those aren't jokes to me anymore. Now that I can't see you every day, now that I have to wonder if you're seeing someone, it's all made me realize that my feelings aren't gonna change. I miss you. I miss you all the time. I miss you right now, even though you're here, because I know soon you're gonna leave. And I didn't ever wanna tell you unless you came to me about it first because our friendship is so goddamn special, I'd hate myself forever if I made it awkward or fucked it up. " The torrent of words seems to drain Armie of any energy he still had, and he sags forward onto his knees once they're out. 

 

" I think," Timmy murmurs, snaking his socked feet over to rest under Armie's thigh." I think that text said something about wanting to touch these?" He takes off his Brentwood Country Mart cap, tosses it onto the floor, and shakes out his curls. He jiggles his foot under Armie's leg, and Armie sits up and shoots him a surprised glance. "So…" Timmy leans forward, buts Armie's shoulder with his head. "Why don't you?" 

 

A ripple stirs in the ocean of Armie's eyes. "Timmy, I…god, I want to. But if we do this, I really wanna try. You know me, I can't do things halfway. And the last thing I want is to lose your friendship because you felt like you owed it to me to try, if this isn't what you want."

 

Timmy sighs, curling his toes beneath Armie's leg. "Armie, I know you don't like to read your own press, but if you did, you would have noticed I told the entire world it was impossible not to fall in love with you. I said filming that movie was the closest I've had to a love like that. And I was saying all of that because I was scared as shit to say it to your face. You're experienced and sharp and intimidating as fuck and that was the only way I could think of to get those thoughts out into the world. I thought that would make them go away. But it didn't." Timmy reaches for Armie's hand, grows bolder when Armie doesn't pull away. He threads Armie's fingers through his hair and leans his head on Armie's chest, feeling as much as hearing his soft sigh. 

 

Armie twirls one of Timmy's curls between his fingers, resting his nose on the crown of Timmy's head. When he tilts Timmy's chin up there's a question in Timmy's eyes that lingers there for a moment before escaping as a sigh. "Kiss me?" 

 

For the briefest second Armie remembers telling an interviewer that he'd never kissed Timmy, only Elio. He knows that very soon that statement will become a lie, and it brings a smile to his lips that lingers there as he presses his mouth, feather-light, to Timmy's. Timmy tastes like oranges and cinnamon and warmth, a summer afternoon coming into full bloom on Armie's tongue. 

 

Timmy is the one to deepen the kiss, to move from being curled up at Armie's side to bracketing Armie's hips with his legs, pressing their chests together as if confirming that their hearts beat in the same rhythm. 

 

But it's Armie who gently wraps his arms around Timmy's waist after several minutes, lifting them both off the couch and giving Timmy a chance to lock his ankles together behind Armie's back before carrying them off into the bedroom. When they're finally through the door Armie does a silly half-twirl before dumping Timmy onto the bed, which leaves them both breathless from giggling and kissing. 

 

Timmy's the first to put his hands under Armie's shirt, breaking the barrier of their clothing for the first time since they were on set together, taking his time exploring the muscles of Armie's back and stomach, smiling softly when he discovers spots on Armie' s ribs that tickle when he ghosts his fingers over them. Armie wraps Timmy in his arms, chuckling softly when he's almost able to encircle Timmy twice. He squeezes a few times, experimentally, as if to reassure himself Timmy won't evaporate when he closes his eyes. 

 

And it's also Armie who gently stops Timmy's hand at his waist when Timmy's hand starts to drift below the waistband of Armie's track pants. "Hey, hey, Timmy," Armie whispers. "Look, I want this just as much as you do, if not fucking  _ more _ . But it's so late and I've been drinking and I just--" He breaks off, taking Timmy's earlobe between his lips and stopping just short of fully biting it. "I wanna really  _ feel _ you the first time. I've been waiting for so long I wanna remember every cell of you." 

 

"Mmmm," Timmy moans in response, then sighs. "Mmmhmm, OK. I--I want that too. Wanna fucking feel  _ everything _ ."

 

The dawn sunlight is breaking through their window as Armie presses fully against Timmy's back, an arm casually flung over his porcelain hip bones. "Hey Timmy," Armie murmurs from the brink of sleep. "This really isn't a dream, right? You're gonna be here when I wake up?" 

 

"Armie," Timmy murmurs, not knowing that Armie's already asleep, that he'll only find out the answer when he wakes up and is still no longer alone, "I'm not going  _ anywhere _ ." 

**Author's Note:**

> dreamofhorses42 on Tumblr.


End file.
